Gemotions

He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. The traffic was a nightmare, each car a potential obstacle in his relentless forward march. He was running late, even though he'd left early to avoid any delays. He needed to be calm. He’d told himself that all morning.

This appointment. With *her*. The very thought sent a surge of heat coursing through him. He’d tried everything to avoid it, every strategy to talk himself out of it. But the nagging voice had won, whispering a challenge he couldn't ignore.

He slammed his fist on the dashboard, the sudden impact a release. He needed to get a grip.